


Lace

by Moth1988



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, Lace, Lace Panties, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink, Self Confidence Issues, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moth1988/pseuds/Moth1988
Summary: Max finds an interesting catalogue under Sam's bed and decides to pull a prank on him.
Relationships: Max/Sam (Sam & Max)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 92





	Lace

Shit, he's sweating just getting this thing on. 

He won't lie, it's a bit nerve-wracking, pulling something this complex and frail-looking over his body. It looks like it's about to come apart, looking at the thin material. It's impractical as hell, but he's never been one to give much of a damn about practicability.

Now that he thinks about it, he can't even remember the last time he wore _anything_ , really, let alone something as revealing as this. Had to have been highschool, at least.

Now he can't help but feel a bit silly. 

He huffs, looking in the mirror. He thinks he looks ridiculous, and that notion alone has him cursing the articles of clothing. 

Well, you can hardly call this sorry piece of material _clothing_. Where the hell is his ass supposed to go? The thing is more like a pair of needlessly complicated underthings that apparently take _ages_ to get on. He honestly doesn't know why he'd been drawn to the idea in the first place, and moreso as to why he'd swallowed his miniscule sense of dignity and marched into the shop to buy the thing. 

He had to admit, now that he looked at it? It was a bit of an overkill.

The twofer was made of an itchy lace fabric that had him squirming around uncomfortably when he first put it on. Definitely wasn't used to that. It hugged his figure, _tightly_ may he add. So tightly that he had thought briefly about ripping the apparel off of him and maybe even burning it, but he doesn't. It's gonna be so worth it to see the look on Sam's face.

He hears a soft knocking on the door, and jumps with a start. 

"Hey, little buddy, you doin' okay in there? You've uhh...been in there for awhile." 

Max curses to himself. " _Sheesh_ , Sam!" He shouts through the door, trying his best not to sound spooked. "Can't a guy get a bit of privacy?"

He looks back to the mirror. Jesus Christ, why is he doing this again? Did he really think Sam would get a kick out of this sorry display?

He's way too round and unshapely for it to work, and the way the elastic pinches at his thighs and hips has him just wanting to rip it off of him and pretend like he'd never had the idea in the first place. 

See, he knew Sam had a thing for lace. It was as clear as ever when Max found that risqué catalogue under his bed. It had featured these young, spindly models dressed sparingly in lacey fabric. Garter belts, lacy panties, complex brasseries, the whole shebang. Sam had flushed redder than a cherry tree when Max had dangled the thing infront of his face with a laugh, causing Sam to snatch it back and throw it out of the open window. Sam denied it, of course, claiming it came from some suspected criminal and kept for the sake of " _evidence_ ", but really that made no sense at all. Besides, it was pretty damn obvious from the way he blushed so hard.

Sure, it was a pretty vanilla thing to be into and it paled in comparison to his own kinks, but it was always fun to tease Sam nonetheless.

So yeah, okay, maybe he thought this would be pretty funny. But now, as he stares at his form in the mirror, he's not too sure. He's not exactly getting "funny" from this look. 

He just wants to embarrass Sam a little bit, is that really too much to ask for?

He groans loudly, and he'd be surprised if Sam doesn't hear his complaining through the door. He knows he looks pretty ridiculous in this sorry excuse for an outfit. He laughs to himself in the mirror.

Lingerie, really? That's what Sam thought was so shameful? Shameful enough that he tried to hide the magazine away? That was hilarious, and he'd be missing one _hell_ of an opportunity if he didn't get at least one good jab at Sam about the whole thing.

Another five minutes or so of doubting himself and he decides to just do it. He spent _wayyyy_ too much on this crap and he's not going to waste it just because he doesn't like how he looks in it. It's just a joke anyhow-- it adds to it, and the thought of the mortified look on Sam's face is just too good not to.

He braces one hand on the doorknob, cringing inwardly when he opens it. 

"Hey, Sam!" He cries out, arms spread wide as he presents himself with a grin and a glaring façade of confidence. "Whaddya think?" 

Sam is poised casually at his desk, hovering over it with one hand braced against the top of it as he looks down on some form of documents that he probably plans to throw out anyhow. His eyes avert to the lagomorph and he freezes. 

He looks absolutely shocked, practically gawking at the spectacle infront of him.

Max cackles. "Oh my god, Sam! Your face!" He's still laughing hard enough that he doesn't notice it when Sam walks over towards him, and he's laughing just as hard when he's lifted into the air. 

He stops, wiping at his eyes with a snort. "Oh, come on, Sam! It was funny!" He's dangelling a foot or so above the ground, held under his arms by a Sam that looks alarmingly deadpan.

Uh oh. 

Sam's just kind of starring at him, eyes roaming up and down his body in a way that makes him squirm mid-air. His face is almost completely blank, and Max begins to regret his little stunt almost immediately. Sure, it could be funny to see Sam a little bit disarmed, but nothing like this. 

Did he go too far this time?

"Hey, uh, 'm sorry, Sam" He starts with an awkward little laugh, glancing towards the ground that's feet below him and hoping his pal doesn't decide to drop him. "Look, I just thought it'd be funny, I just wanted t' tease ya, Sam." He shrugs, an awkward and diffifcult gesture when one is being dangled two or three feet off of the ground. "I didn't mean anything bad by it..." He trails off, and tries to swallow down the sting of guilt in his throat that buds underneath Sam's unyielding gaze. He's done much worse, so why does this feel so bad?

He's seriously about to start considering crying some crocodile tears just to get his way out of this one when he's suddenly being dropped ontop of the desk unceremoniously. He grunts when he's thrust ontop of it, rubbing at his sore behind. "Ow, Sam!" He cries out. "What the hell?!"

Suddenly Sam's kneeling infront of the desk, holding him by his hips. He'd almost forgotten all about the get-up he was wearing before Sam starts thumbing at the thin straps across his hips. He can't help but shiver. "Sorry, little buddy. Guess I got a little carried away seein' you like this..." He chuckles, and the sound alone sends another shiver through him. "You just look so pretty, all dolled up." He laughs, but there's no mocking humor to it at all, just a tinge of awkwardness. "Ya look nice, Max. Cream's really your color."

He can't say that he thought Sam would react like this, but hey, he shouldn't question something that feels this nice, right? And it feels _really_ nice. He can't quite name why the compliments make him blush so hard and squirm around in a way that would make even the most experienced of broads jealous, but it makes his head spin and a warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach. 

It feels _nice_ , to put it simply. 

But honestly, he thought he might earn a laugh or two out of the other at most, maybe embarrass him a little. But this? He didn't think _him_ wearing the kind of things he saw in that magazine could elicit the kind of display infront of him.

He knows he looks like a sap, like he got _way_ too drunk and took some unseemly dare _way_ too far. He knows he looks nothing like the models in those magazines Sam had. He thinks he looks absolutely ridiculous, to be frank. Yet the way those hands are grasping so tenderly at him makes him think otherwise.

He braces two hands against the desktop behind him. "'S alright, Sam!" He giggles, eyelashes fluttering dramatically. That always gets him, and he watches as Sam gulps, eyes roaming across his body again. "You know I like to play rough!" He winks, and then he's doubting himself just like that, swallowing at the eyes on him. He isnt able to quite hide the stilt of nervousness in his voice when he stutters out his question. "Ya really think I look pretty?"

The canine holds him at his hips, holding on securely in this almost possessive way that has Max blushing like a virgin. "Absolutely stunning, little buddy. You look good enough to eat." His partner moves one hand down from his hip to his thigh, tracing so delicately that Max has to stifle a cry with his hand. _God_ , that feels nice.

Sam laughs. "Sensitive little thing, ain't ya?"

Max crosses his arms in a mock pout, face flushing darker. "Maybe I wouldn't be if you weren't talking so _dirty_ , Sam!" 

The larger of the two just laughs, taking one hand and gently moving one leg to the side. "Yeah? Is that so, Max?" He asks, voice dripping with intent. Sam's gaze shifts to the sheer lace and cotton between his legs, and it's rather obvious that the smaller of two is enjoying himself, much to his own chargrin. "You're practically drippin' already." Max feels his face redden and his ears droop downwards in a helpless display. He never could quite stay composed when dirty talk was involved.

Shit, this was supposed to be about him embrassing Sam, not the other way around! 

"Shut up, Sam!" He cries, hiding his reddened face in his hands. So much for maintaining his dignity. "Not my fault you're into somethin' like this!" He huffs, and it catches him completely off-guard when Sam laughs at his poor excuse.

"Oh, like you're not into weirder things, little buddy." He chides, pulling one of Max's hands away from his burning face and lacing their fingers together. "I just can't get over how beautiful you look tonight, pal." He sighs, looking so intensely into Max's eyes that he can hardly handle it, can hardly handle the vulnerability of it all. He feels so exposed, ironically enough.

Max squeezes his hand and averts his gaze. "You sure you're not just saying that, Sam?" He asks, and tries not to sound as small as he feels. 

Sam stops, looking at him with a look of confusion. "Of course not, little buddy. You're stunning." He pauses, pressing a kiss to his lips firmly but brief before he pulls away. "Mind if I demonstrate?"

With a silent nod, Max watches the other. He's starting to shake just from the thought of it alone, and he's cursing in a stifled gasp when Sam pries his other leg apart to parallel the other. He's never felt quite as inexperienced as this, blushing and practically panting at the slightest touch. Literally like a _blushing virgin_ , he laughs inwardly to himself.

The lagomorph winces as the cool air hits him, and he can feel himself straining helplessly against the silky material between his legs, a dawning heat that radiates straight from his core. It's mortifying, and he looks away from the sight. He can't believe he's already so turned on just from some nice words alone. 

God, is he that _easy_? 

Sam kisses his thighs, and he looks back up at him. "You okay, buddy?" 

Max nods, hands grasping unyielding at the wooden desk. "Yeah I just feel a little silly, Sam." He laughs, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I mean, look at me! Ya really think this is anything like those dames in the magazines?" He's laughing again, half-heartedly, but is still dazed when Sam gives him something akin to a look of hurt.

"Little buddy, do you really feel that way?" Sam grasps at one of his hands again, holding it so tenderly that Max just wants to cry. He's always been kind of sensitive, and it always breaks through at the worst of times. "You're beautiful to me, Max. I meant that when I said it." He kisses his palm, closing his eyes briefly and holding it to his cheek. "I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable wearin' something like this, pal. If you want to take it off, you can. It's all the same to me, Max. You look lovely either way."

Max stills at that. It's a sweet gesture, but honestly with all of the praise he's getting, he's kinda warming up to it. That, and this whole get-up was way too expensive for that. He's not gonna lie, wearin' something pretty like this isn't the worst thing.

"Nah, think I'll keep it on, Sam!" He grins down at him, pulling his legs apart vivaciously with a little grin. "If you _really_ mean what you said, about me looking so nice in a get-up like this one..." 

Sam's at it again, going so gentle and slow. It's so much like him, and yet Max can't help but squirm with impatience. He's almost _painfully_ hard, and he's honestly amazed that he hasn't completely popped out of the thin confines of the underwear yet. There's hardly anything there to cover him to begin with, and he can't quite help himself when he's as excited as this. Sam carefully starts near his knee, trailing up to his thighs so lightly that it has Max squirming again. His fingertips dance across his skin and upwards towards his hips with soft little strokes that have Max keening like a common whore within a second or two.  
  
Sam was right -- he _is_ sensitive. Almost painfully so, and he's nearly crying when his friend finally touches him where it counts.

His friend paws at the material between his legs, and Max starts whining shamelessly. " _Saaaam_ , _please_..." He all but begs as his pal just barely touches him, a single hand holding one bent leg upwards and out of the way as he thumbs at the ache between his legs. Max whimpers helplessly. "Are ya really teasing me, Sam? In a time like this?"

His partner chuckles and kisses the soft patch of fur right beside his twitching member. "Patience, little buddy, we'll get there." He comforts, smiling at him when he does so. "You're so pretty, little buddy. All wrapped up like a neat little gift..." He trails off, and kisses at Max's stomach, right below the willowy lace of the garter belt pressing into his skin.

Looking at it now, he can almost see the itchy material as pretty. The material itself is attractive, adorned with a mess of cream-coloured, lacy straps that criss-cross their way across his chest above and below the slight patches of woven lace that cover him, and a narrow stripping of it across his thighs in a garter belt that doesn't actually hold anything up. It's just for show, honestly, stockings were just too prudish for him, so the garter belt remains clinging at his stomach and thighs without much of a purpose. The little patches of lace and cotton that form into a salacious sort of braissere and panty set are a soft cream color themselves, and these small patches of cloth hardly cover a thing at all. The outer edge of the practically soaked underwear consists only of thin straps that hold them up, matching the ones above and below his chest on top. The material is thin, both parts of it, and soft enough that it's not chaffing him as he ruts against it, desperate for some sort of friction. 

He's really starting to appreciate the scandalous set of underthings the moment after Sam snaps the tight straps on either edge of his hips like a taunt rubber band, and the sharp, sudden sting causes him to cry out.

The set definitely wasn't the _cheapest_ thing he's ever bought, but hey, he usually just steals things anyhow so he's got some money saved up. That and the way Sam's practically drooling over his thighs has him thinking it was absolutely worth it. 

He snaps his legs closed suddenly with a sharp cry, snapping him out of his thoughts when he feels something wet and warm on the silky fabric. Sam shouts in surprise, squished between his trembling legs.

" _Shit_ , Sam!" He slowly parts his shaking legs again, revealing the face of a very unamused Sam. "Warn a guy next time, will ya?"

The canine rubs at his sore cheeks, and it only makes Max laugh at the pathetic display. He reaches out a hand and gently strokes at his cheek apologetically. "My bad, Sam. You okay?" He's laughing, and Sam only smiles at him.

"I'm fine, little buddy. Didn't know those legs of yours had such an _oomf_ behind 'em!" He chuckles, and then he's holding Max by his hips again, rubbing tenderly underneath the straps and massaging at the indents they've left in his skin. Max sighs at the soothing motion, and can't help but lean into the touch. The lingerie may be _pretty_ , sure, but it's horrifically tight. 

His hands trace up and along his sides to the thin straps and material on his chest now, using both hands to methodically massage underneath the patches of lace on either side. He groans, head rolling back. "That feels _niceeee_ ," He trails off, feeling as Sam rubs further at the indents along his skin where the strappings lay. Max covers his face with his arm, head lolled back. " _Ohhhh_ , keep goin' Sam." He giggles in pure bliss, and can't help but moan quietly when the other rubs circles into the sensitive skin underneath the bra. It's heaven, purr bliss to feel those warm hands soothing the irritated skin underneath. He'd swear that if he died right now in this moment, he'd be happy.

Hell, he's sure he wasn't even moaning this bad when Sam was actually getting him off. Well, _somewhat_ , before his building climax was rudely interrupted. He shivers, squeezing his thighs together and pawing aimlessly at the flat surface beneath his hands. He's so hard that it _hurts_ , and it's an ache so deep that he knows he won't be satiated until he's actually gotten off. He briefly considers speeding up the process and taking care of it himself before Sam's pressing heated kisses to his skin again.

Max whimpers and bucks his hips when Sam starts kissing down his stomach, these feather-light touches that parallel his fingertips tracing ever so slightly at his skin from before. He's shivering and trembling so greatly that Sam has to hold his legs open with either hand, kissing at the inside of his thighs again before he presses the final kiss to the soaked fabric directly between his legs.

Sam looks back up at Max with a cheesy grin. "Ya ready now, Bunny?" 

Max almost chokes, pressing the palm of his hand against his mouth to stifle a shaky whine. "Saaaam, I told you not to call me that! It's embrassing!" He complains, glaring at Sam and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Sam chuckles. "Sorry, little buddy, it's just so fun to see you so riled up!" He admits with a laugh when Max so outwardly pouts, and it's only a moment or so before he's kissing at the lacy underwear again. Max grabs onto one of the canine's ears to brace himself. The warm breath on his dick on it's own is enough to make him almost lose it, and he knows he won't last long if Sam's going in the direction he thinks he is.

" _Mm_ , call me whatever ya want, Sam! As long as you would _please_ _just_ \--" He's cut off with a cry, high-pitched and breathy when he bucks his hips against the warmth around him. It's so _nice_ , and he can't do much besides giggle and grin deliriously as he lays back against the wood of the desk and presses himself helplessly into the movements. His head is swimming, and it barely registers when he starts to moan Sam's name shamelessly.

It's a little embrassing, but not wholly unexpected when he doesn't last long. He's rutting against Sam and crying out loudly before he even knows it, head spinning as he babbles out something only halfway coherent. It's a mixture of " _ahh,"_ 's and " _pleaseee_ " and utterances of Sam's name when he's finally coming undone in his partner's hands. And mouth, actually.

Sam lets go off him and wipes at his lips. "My pretty little bunny," He chuckles, stroking Max's thighs softly. "Lookin' better than any dame _I've_ ever seen." He purrs, and places another kiss on the innermost part of his thigh again as Max shivers at the sensitivity. 

He pushes himself up from the desk, supporting himself with one hand while the other holds his head when he sits up. " _Woahh_ , my head's spinning!" He laughs. "Didn't know ya had that in you, Sam!" He reaches behind his back, struggling with the clasp before he gives up with a frustrated sigh. "Can ya help me get this off, please? It's startin' to dig into my skin." 

Unnervingly skilled at the action somehow, Sam unclasps the thing with one fell swoop and tugs the soiled underwear off of him as well. He throws the articles to the side and places a smooch on the lagomorph's head. 

"That was quite the show, little buddy," Sam chuckles, standing up off of his knees and reaching out a hand, the other stuffed into his pocket, "Wanna go get a bite to eat?"

Max giggles, taking Sam's outstretched hand and hopping off of the soiled desk. "Ya really are such a gentleman, Sam," He quips. "I think it's usually customary to buy me dinner before ya get me off, but I'll take it!" And at that, he's practically pulling Sam out of the door, stomach growling. Who knew being laid would work up such an appetite?   



End file.
